


The Cruel Prince One-Shots

by shattered_quill



Category: The Cruel Prince
Genre: F/M, Jude/cardan - Freeform, The lost sisters, cardan greenbriar - Freeform, jude duarte - Freeform, tcp, the cruel prince - Freeform, the wicked king, twk
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-04
Updated: 2018-12-03
Packaged: 2019-07-24 22:47:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16184774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shattered_quill/pseuds/shattered_quill
Summary: One shots about the Folk of the Air series!





	1. Locke and his Shenanigans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Locke likes to ruin things and Cardan is too salty to care

Inspired by the excerpts from The Wicked King (The Cruel Prince #2) and The Lost Sisters (The Cruel Prince #1.5) novella

The Hunter's Moon Revel is hosted at the Milkwood, just as Locke promised. The display of wealth and ornate decorations is dizzying. Chandeliers of mica reflect the flickering candlelight in their positions above us, casting the room in a calm, warm glow. A band plays a tune that is so loud, it sends rhythmic pulses through the floor. 

It is a lot to take in, but I am the only one who notices—the rest of the guests are very much in the process of getting drunk. 

It is a good summary of Faerie. 

Guests mingle, adorned in lavish furs and silks. It isn't hard to find Taryn in the crowd, hanging on Locke's arm like a leech dressed in midnight blue. She is whispering to him quietly, laughing every so often at something he says. Each time she does, it feels like a personal blow. 

It has been six months since we have had a proper conversation. Neither of us will give the other the satisfaction of yielding. My honor will not allow me to, and her childish nature prevents the possibility of apologizing from entering her mind. 

I curl my hand into a fist and force myself to look away. I desperately want my sister back, but she lost me when she betrayed my trust. 

"It's funny how much I catch you looking at him." 

 

I glance at Cardan from the side where he sits on his father's throne, sipping green-tinted wine.

Even though Locke was not the one on my mind, I reply anyway. "How nice of you to let me know." 

I stand at attention by his side, my sole duty to be vigilant for anything that might cause him harm. I have not been doing a very good job so far, it seems, if I am to lose myself in regret and wishful thinking.

He chuckles. "I never tire of hearing you lie."

"I'm glad." There is no amusement in my tone, probably because I'm dead inside. 

His lips pull back over a smile. 

"Maybe if you found someone else to occupy your time, you might not think of him so often." His eyes gleam mischievously. "I am sure a number of these faeries would love for nothing more than to have you command them, to strip their control away." 

I ignore the jibe. "You're enough for now." 

"For now? Or for another six months?" His grin is cruel. 

It is times like these that I am reminded of how much he has hurt me, of how much I'm supposed to hate him. I remember how he has done nothing but make my life miserable. Memories of the river, the nixies, the fear come rushing at me and level my head most of the time. But sometimes I remember other things.

Like the way his lips molded to mine as if they were crafted specifically for the other.

Or my name written over and over on a sheet of parchment.

Or how he looks at me as if I am the most alluring and dazzling and confusing thing he has ever seen.

Sometimes it is hard to hate him.

The Bomb clears her throat. I had not even heard her approach. 

I break our stare faster than a strike of lightning. Cardan's gaze lingers on my face, though, and he purposefully takes longer to turn his attention over to the Bomb. 

"Balekin has sent another letter," she says watching me for any tell. 

"Oh." Cardan frowns. "I do not think I will read it," he drawls, swirling his wine.

"It is not for you, but for the kingmaker." She nods toward me.

I wonder what I said to Balekin that was unclear enough for him to send me a note. "Set it on my desk. I will attend to it after the revel."

When I went to visit Balekin in his cell, our discussion led to nothing more than his proposal of a ludicrous bargain. He promised he would give me anything if I released him, but I don't think he understands that I already have everything. Well, at least material wise.

I am lacking in the other department.

"Very well," she says, and disappears into the crowd. A few seconds later, the large oak doors have been opened, and I see a flash of white and then nothing.

Cardan looks surprised for the briefest moment before he smoothes his features out. "Your visit must have made quite the impression—my brother has finally realized that you are the one with the power to free him." He smirks, as he usually does when bringing up our arrangement. "But only for another six months." His smirk grows wider.

"Pray that I do not kill you before then." I don't try to keep the sneer out of my tone. 

"But then who would you have on the throne? My psychotic sibling, or your brother who can't sit still for more than two seconds at a time?" he wonders aloud.

I don't have time to respond before Locke bounds up the dais wearing his usual cunning air. This time the guards do not try to stop him. 

He bears two silver plates, one covered with rich, divine foods and the other bearing a mortal apple and crackers.

I know which one is for me. And I hate him for it. 

"I was tasked with bringing these to you," Locke says. He hands Cardan his plate first, and then mine to me with a grin. 

I stare down at the sparse food, wondering if, were I not in such a high position of power, he would have laden my plate with dirt and grass. 

I do not thank him. 

Cardan doesn't seem to notice and starts to pick at a candied plum. "You do have the best taste in delicacies," he tells Locke, chewing thoughtfully. 

"I must admit, it is a talent of mine." 

The two share a laugh, and I clench my teeth.

My hunger gets the better of me, and I bite into an apple slice gingerly, wincing at the salty flavor. It does not escape the notice of Locke.

Cardan notices that Locke does, and he whispers furtively in my ear. "Go back to the palace." There is something akin to worry in his voice, but it is gone as quick as it came. "I don't think you will want to bear witness to what he most certainly has planned." 

Locke angles his body toward the crowd. "It is a shame you mortals must lather your food with salt," he says, directed at me, but loud enough to draw the attention of the gathered Folk, "while we may have whatever we wish without a second thought." 

I still hold my half-eaten apple slice and grit my teeth. I shake my head the smallest bit toward Cardan, and he gives me a look that says I am on my own, that I should have left when I had the chance. He has no choice but to play along with Locke's ridiculous game. 

"And sometimes even that does not work," Cardan adds thoughtfully, voice raised to reach the back of the crowd as well.

By now, our guests have stopped dancing and they all stare on. 

"What are you doing?" I hiss. I thought he would at least try to salvage my dignity before Locke completely squandered it, but apparently, I was mistaken. 

"Tell us what you think of our Lady," Locke says, looking like an over-eager child. It is unnerving. "Is it not tiring to watch her salt her food day after day after day? It must be amusing, though," he decides with a grin. 

 

"Very much so." Cardan plasters an easy smile on his lips. 

"It does so remind me of a story . . ." 

"And what could that be?" Cardan hands his plate over to a servant and crosses one of his legs over the other. 

Locke's smile widens as he gazes out over the Folk. 

"The story I am thinking of is an old legend about a Faerie who enchanted a mortal queen to eat off the forest floor in front of her people. Once they saw how mad the queen must have had to become to do such atrocious things, the Faerie soon enchanted them, too." He pauses for effect and his eyes slide to mine. "This is the story of how the Queen of Mirth was created. It is a lesson, for no matter how mighty a mortal is, they are no match for their superiors." 

Laughing echoes off the floor in rolling waves. Goblins, hags, pixies, and Fae alike cackle together in a chorus. 

Locke's tale was not one to mock—although it did just that—but it was a warning from both him and my sister. They both know that the power I have is too great for mortals to wield and that they will not be waiting for me when I fall. 

 

"Are you insinuating something, my dear friend?" Cardan asks, wariness gone out the window completely. 

I hate him I hate him I hate him.

Locke's grin is crooked. "I believe you find yourself in the council of the Queen of Mirth, your majesty." 

The laughter turns to a roar. They shriek out Her Majesty! and the Queen of Mirth!

I glare at Cardan for letting this happen. I pour all of my hatred into a single look. I want him to see how badly he has hurt me. 

He only smiles in return. 

Be bold, be bold, but not too bold. Taryn thinks I am too bold. She thinks that I should just marry into a position, just like anyone else that ever looked my way, and not win it as an honorable knight would. 

I will disappoint her. I will continue to be bold, and I will grow bolder still. I will ruin, I will ravage, I will reign even if all that is left is nothing.


	2. Cardan’s Fascination

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A tumblr prompt: We don't know for how long Cardan has been crushing on Jude, but I have a headcanon that it's been years can u write something about young!Cardan thoughts of Jude through the years? Just not love at first sight please.

Cardan was seven when Madoc, his father's esteemed general, left to get revenge in the mortal realm. 

One of the general's servants—a young sprite who couldn't resist the temptation of truth, however awful it might be—had leaked the gossip while he was away. The news had spread like wildfire, and Cardan was soon subject to its flame because, like the sprite, someone else's secrets were just too good to ignore.

What he did not expect—nor the rest of Elfhame, for that matter—was for Madoc to return with his long-lost child and two mortals. 

They were twins, he later discovered, and beyond lucky. Instead of being killed on sight, they were taken into the general's home and were granted lives as children of the Gentry. They joined Cardan's lessons, even though they shouldn't have been breathing. Balekin told him his entire life that mortals were beneath the Fae, and now two were sitting beside him almost every day. 

Cardan didn't know what to think. 

It took the twins a while to join their lessons, enough time for word to spread and gossip to explode once more. Nicasia, one of his best friends, said that the children would never leave Madoc's estate. When asked why she thought so, she responded with 'Because they're dead' and a wicked grin.

As the weeks passed, Cardan began to believe her. 

It wasn't until the third week that the twins joined them, alongside their half-sister. The day's lecturer introduced Vivienne first, as she was Madoc's true heir. Her cat eyes blinked slowly, a mask of boredom concealing a burning anger. Cardan watched her as she moved to take a seat against a large mossy tree, wondering what could make her so upset. She had been given a miracle, but by her countenance, you would have thought it was a curse. 

After she had taken a seat, the lecturer turned to the mortal closest to him and requested her name. The girl mumbled a response—Taryn—and decided the grass under her boots was incredibly interesting. It probably was, compared to the dull mortal kind. Tears were threatening to spill over her cheeks, her lower lip was raw from the effort of holding them back. 

Her twin, however, looked angry. The hand that wasn't intertwined with her sister's, was balled into a fist. Her eyes glared at each of us, a silent challenge to glare back. When she spoke, defiance laced her tone, even though she had only given her name. 

She said the word "Jude" with such ferocity that the lecturer flinched. 

He decided two things about her upon first glance: that she could not hide her emotions as well as Vivienne, and that she was passionate. In what, he could not say. 

As Jude pulled Taryn toward their older sister, Cardan caught her gaze. It was only for a second, but her eyes narrowed and she quickly glanced away as if she had witnessed something unpleasant. 

. . . 

Four years later, Taryn and Jude were still not dead, much to the chagrin of Nicasia and Valerian. It didn't bother Cardan much, but his resentment was building. The twins were still residing in Madoc's estate, a place where they should have no claim, while Cardan's own brother had extruded him of his own home. 

His contempt mounted, toward Jude especially. 

Everything she did felt like a personal blow. Every answer she got right, each time she knocked him down during their mock war, every hate-inspired glance she threw his way angered him to no end. 

In retaliation, he and his friends embarrassed the twins, even though it was Jude who truly got under his skin. While Cardan never directly laid a finger on either of them, Nicasia and Valerian had their fun poking and prodding at Jude's rough skin, Taryn's plain hair. They would rip their clothes and parade the pieces around like trophies. 

Cardan never understood their obsession with cruelty, but he didn't restrict them from it. They provided him with intimidation, so he gave them power.

Locke had joined their little band by then, but he was more reserved. He was an excellent observer who loved stories. Over the years, Cardan found, he became almost obsessed with them, so much so, that if he didn't find a good enough one, he would make his own. 

He remembers one ball in particular, the third Madoc allowed Taryn and Jude to attend. They wore deep rubber-soled shoes, perfect for dancing but never actually used, and their hair was drawn up in new styles that resembled horns. His friends had chittered all night long, examining the two with an excitement that stemmed from mockery.  

But their main conversation wasn't of their unneeded shoes or of their hair. No, rather, of the twins' dresses, which were identical. His friends were busy debating who was who, but Cardan had known all along which twin Jude was. She had always had a brazenness about her, a striking difference from Taryn. 

So Cardan didn't join in the conversation. He kept his mouth shut for once and feigned uninterest. 

He could sense Locke's eyes on him but said nothing. Locke was piecing together a puzzle, and Cardan wasn't about to help him finish it. It was only when Cardan was alone that Locke followed and cornered him. 

"Having fun?" Locke had inquired, a smirk touching his lips. He was good at playing games by then. 

Cardan had replied with a haughty "of course" and laughed at nothing. This is what he had been fearing. Locke was swinging, and there was no telling who he was about to hit. 

Cardan needed to gain to control of the conversation before Locke spun his web, and fast. 

"Really?" Locke asked, a contemplative look on his face. "Because usually you would be jumping on the opportunity to make fun of the mortals, but you haven't spoken a word tonight. It almost looked as if you were uncomfortable. Feel free to prove me wrong." 

Cardan swallowed. His feelings toward Jude were only growing in hatred, but he couldn't deny the fascination he had with her. She was a mortal peasant, but she was also tenacious and brass and unearthly magnificent. He hated himself for these thoughts, and this anger pushed into his words. 

"I was perfectly comfortable around our friends." Our friends and not you and our friends. 

"Of course you would. But I am speaking of around someone else. Someone you have been touchy with lately."

Cardan knew where Locke was getting at, and he despised him for it. 

Locke's smirk grew in time with Cardan's irritation. 

"You see, Nicasia has been worried as of late. She hates when you lose to Jude, whether it be in mock war or in our lectures. She thinks it's a sign of weakness." Locke circles him like a predator.

"What would you have me do about it?" Cardan bites out. The word weakness echoes in his head. It has been beaten into his back. 

"She thinks you're too soft on them. That you should show Jude and Taryn who their superiors really are." 

Cardan is reluctant to respond. "And how would she have me show dominance?" 

Locke gives a toothy grin. "Nicasia respects cruelty, Cardan. If you don't entertain her, then she will be yours no longer." 

It was a threat plain as day. Because when it came down to it, Cardan was only bark and no bite. Locke and Valerian on the other hand . . . it made him twitch in anger. They would steal Nicasia from him if he didn't act fast. And he liked Nicasia. He liked her so much, that maybe one day he would marry her. But he couldn't do that if he didn't have her to himself. 

Cardan's resolve hardened and he brushed past Locke in a fury. He would make the mortals pay for even existing. 

They were given prosperity, whereas he had no home. 

Their skin was unmarred, while he bore scars. 

Madoc loved the children of his unfaithful wife, but his father wouldn't give him the time of day.

No, cruelty was the least he could do. 

. . . 

Cardan was seventeen when Nicasia left him. 

She said that she was tired of him, that she didn't feel the same about him anymore. Locke had been right all those years ago. He hadn't been cruel enough for her. She wanted someone who could provide an entertaining story. 

Someone like Locke.  

In the months following, Cardan drowned himself in his goblet. He became crueler, worse than he had ever been before. If he could not be wicked enough for Nicasia, then he would do it for himself. 

As his mental state grew worse and worse, someone new occupied his mind. But, he thinks, occupied is too little a word. The better word was consumed. 

He saw her everywhere, her image burned and scarred into his mind. He hated it. Hated that he wanted it to burn even more. 

He hated the way he loved her hair and how it whipped around her head like a halo as she battled. He hated the way he loved her full lips, even though they didn't surmount to the regular beauty of Faerie. But most of all, he hated how he loved her even though she was a mortal.

Cardan didn't understand his fascination at first. He thought it was disgusting that he, a Fae prince, could feel something for a creature born dead. He thought that if he bullied her more, that the feelings would go away. 

Oh, how wrong he was.


	3. Taryn and the Crowning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cardan’s crowning in Taryn’s POV

"I'll only be gone a moment, my love," Locke whispers to me. He brings my hand up to his and presses his lips against my knuckles with a mischievous smile. 

"Okay," I respond, weary. I see him moving to Jude, and can't help the nervous flutter of my stomach. Why would he leave me to go to her? Will he tell her how he doesn't feel anything for her, that their flirting was all a lie? I know we are to be wed, but there will always be a part of him that belongs to my sister, and I still try in vain to deny it. 

But when my fiancé gently touches Jude's shoulder, she flinches, and her eyes burn with a fiery spark of anger. She looks like she might stab him if they weren't surrounded by the Folk. 

As I continue to observe, I think she might, even then.  

Maybe she is done with Locke, I think selfishly. That makes him all mine, and I will have no need to cry over a lost sister any longer.

He says something to her and she takes a step back, annoyance and anger contorting her features. He continues to goad her into a reaction, but she doesn't comply, instead, electing to move and take a seat next to Prince Cardan. I silently applaud her self-control, since she has rarely exhibited it before. 

Locke smiles and comes to sit next to me. 

"What did you inquire?" I ask, trying to be subtle. Unfortunately, he sees through my facade as if it were crystal and smirks.

"There is no need to fret, my love," he parries with ease.

I nod because I will not push him. I drop the subject because there is no need to question the person who has devoted himself to me. In a relationship, there must be trust. I will give him the benefit of the doubt for the peace of both our minds.

Locke begins to speak with Queen Orlagh about Nicasia. I should care since he and the queen's daughter were once together, but I remind myself that I must trust him. So I leave them to their conversation, and my gaze wanders. 

My eyes land back on Jude. My twin. The one person I should never have withheld secrets from. Who also kept secrets of her own from me. It is fair, in a way, but I still do not like it. I do not like how she has hidden away the biggest secret of all from under my nose. 

When was she going to tell me that she held Faerie's most-wanted prince in the palm of her hand?

Cardan winds a piece of Jude's hair around his finger lazily, but it is not that--well, not entirely--that catches my attention. 

Jude lets him. She gazes at him without the hatred and defiance I have seen in her eyes for him since we came to Faerie. She converses with him in an almost natural way that has me reeling and confused. 

What did I miss?

Because now there is a tendril of jealousy curled in my belly, one I quickly try to dismiss. I have Locke, a boy of the Gentry who could love me, but she has a prince. And there is no comparison.

But once the thought enters my head, I am left ashamed. Locke played his games with Jude, but now he is all mine. No one can take him from me. Especially not Jude, who, at one time, was my biggest rival. 

The jealousy does not go away, no matter how much I push it aside. 

The feast begins, and we are served. Locke sits to my right and idly draws circles on my palm under the table. He conversation with Queen Orlagh has not yet ended, so I must make my own chatter. 

I turn to my left, where a pink-skinned pixie sips daintily at a goblet twice the size of her hand. Her hair is ornamented with pins of gold, and fireflies dance around her head in a halo of flickering light. 

"Find something you like?" The pixie smirks when she catches me staring. 

My cheeks grow hot and I wince.

"Hi. I really like your pins." I gesture to her hair.

"Oh, thank you!" She grins, displaying a mouth of pointy teeth. Then, she leans in conspiratorially and says, "I stole them from him." She points a long pink finger toward Cardan.

"How did you manage that?" I wonder aloud. 

"It was simple, really," she starts excitedly. "There are many ways to get inside a prince's palace. The easiest is through his heart."

And at that moment, it is like an explosion goes off in my mind. Because now it all makes sense why Jude would placate Cardan, even be amicable toward him. It makes sense why she kept him instead of just turning him over to Madoc the first chance she had. 

The only reason for her to do any of this would be because she is playing for something much bigger than her knighthood. 

My sister wants the crown, and the only way for her to get it is through Cardan.

It is then that my mind wakes up, and I realize that an actual explosion has gone off. Locke helps me to my feet, and I am standing when the first arrow flies right at Prince Cardan. It lands inches away from his chest and lodges in the table, splintering the wood. 

Balekin shouts something to his knights, and then there is a flurry of movement. A second arrow lands next to Cardan, and in the next moment, he is on the floor, covered from sight by Balekin. 

Locke attempts to lead me away, but I hold firm, too shocked to move. There is a quick movement at my feet, and I glance down, only to find the Blood Crown of Faerie rattling on the floor. 

I am moving before I can process what has just happened. The crown is in my hands, and I hear Jude shout "Give it to Vivi." She is looking at me, but I see the glances she throws the corner of the room, and I follow them there. 

I feel my eyes widen and pulse quicken--a goblin of sorts aims a crossbow at my chest. A thousand images go through my head, mostly strings of curses, but one thought blares the loudest.

Jude, my sister, who has been by my side since we were born, thinks of me as an obstacle. She thinks that if I am no help to her, I am better off dead. I see this reflected in the goblin's beady eyes. 

Balekin is off the floor by now and pushing his way through the crowd. "Child, if you do not give that to me, I will cut you in half," he commands. It does not scare me as it should. "I will be the High King, and when I am, I will punish any who inconvenienced me."

My heartbeat jumps to an alarming rate. I do not know what to do, what to think. What I am convinced on, however, is that I should definitely get rid of the crown quickly. 

I extend my arms, the crown in my grasp, but the direction to which I point it wavers. I do not know who to give it to.

I stare at Balekin, a cruel and harsh leader. My eyes find their way to Vivi, who is a part of Jude's wild plan.

Jude, my twin, who has cut me out of her life. 

I see the Folk around me, waiting with bated breath.

"Give me my crown," Balekin says again. His steps toward me are loud and echoing in this new silence. 

Lord Roiben intercepts him and orders him to wait. Jude comes to oppose me, only a few feet away. 

Queen Orlagh says something about letting me choose whom I will give to. 

Jude's hands are on the crown now, but I do not let her have it. 

"Please," she whispers, and I think I might cry out of anger. I do not know what she has become. 

"What are you doing?" I shoot back. 

"The best I can." 

And this is what breaks me, because if Jude, who I used to know the best, is still somewhere in there, then maybe things will turn out alright. Everything might not be okay, but I trust that she will do whatever it takes to keep Faerie together.

I let go of the crown. 

"Prince Cardan," Jude turns toward the boy she was at odds with for most of her life, "this is for you." 

I hold my breath as Cardan goes to stand by her side. Vivi brings Oak in close, and by now I can hear my heartbeat. 

What is Jude thinking, bringing Oak here? That is our little brother and he is in grave danger as the center of attention. 

"Stop! Stop them immediately." Balekin orders, drawing his sword. It is not five seconds later, that his hand is stuck to the dining table with an iron arrow. 

There is a collective intake of breath from the Folk, broken only by Balekin's pleading. 

"Cardan, I know you. I know that you'd prefer I did the difficult work of ruling while you enjoyed the power. I know that you despise mortals and ruffians and fools. Come, I have not always danced to your piping, but you haven't the stomach to truly cross me. Bring me the crown." 

I see Jude pass the Blood Crown into Oak's hands.

Balekin repeats himself. "Bring me the crown, Cardan."

Cardan speaks with arrogance. "No, brother. I do not think that I will. I think that if I did not have another reason to cross you, I would do it for spite."

Jude whispers something to Cardan, and he kneels reluctantly. 

I am rooted to the spot. 

Oak moves toward Cardan with the crown in his tiny hands and recites words I never expected to hear from his mouth. 

"I crown you. King. High King of Faerie." Some of the syllables merge together, but everyone watching understands clear enough. 

Oak is a part of the Greenbriar line. 

Cardan's eyes burn with fury directed at Jude, and I cannot tell why. 

The Folk sink to their knees before their new king, and Locke and I follow. I grip his hand tight, an infinite amount of questions springing to life inside my head.

Jude has just made her first move. In time, she will reach checkmate. 

But the one thing I have learned from watching her and Madoc play chess is that the price of winning is high. To win, she must lose all of her allies, and he his. 

So when Jude wins, what will she be the queen of? The answer rings inside my mind. 

Nothing.


End file.
